


Bells and Candles

by LeastExpected_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-04
Updated: 2002-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26321497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeastExpected_Archivist/pseuds/LeastExpected_Archivist
Summary: By MJ.Merry and Pippin visit Bag End on their way to the Tookland.
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee, Merry Brandybuck/Pippin Took
Kudos: 4
Collections: Least Expected





	Bells and Candles

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Amy Fortuna, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Least Expected](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Least_Expected), which has been offline since 2002. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Least Expected collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/leastexpected/profile).
> 
> Disclaimer: These characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs. I have merely borrowed them for these adventures and will never make a cent from them.  
> Story Notes: Chronologically, this follows the F/S story, [Home Again, Home Again](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26322220). In the M/P stories, it follows [A Proper Seduction](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26319778).

Saradas Brandybuck had, so it was said, a good head on his shoulders. He also had plenty of foresight and a peculiar (at least among his own family) need for privacy. Between the latter two, and to celebrate the first, he came up with the happy idea to build a retreat far enough away from Brandy Hall to be unattractive to his least favorite relatives, yet close enough not to prevent the management of his own interests. And as these interests included the growing of wheat and barley, as well as the occasional crop of pipeweed, it went without saying that this retreat must be near a tidy bit of good land. 

Scouting the countryside as far west as Bywater and as far to the north and south as he could bear (he was, after all, a Brandybuck and really didn't wish to move _very_ far away.), Saradas determined to build his hideaway not far from the junction of the Great East Road and the road to Oatbarton, where a nice stand of old forest still stood, its outriders flanking the swiftly moving stream of the Bywater. On the eastern side of this woodland was a broad, deep hill, not so high as to prove an unlikely habitation and not so low as to preclude roomy ceilings and comfortable chimneys. Best of all, trickling down from the top of this hill was a cold, clear spring, rushing from its birthplace in a short bed of cracked rock to fall in gentle steps down the grassy slope, from where it laughed and splashed its way to a little tributary that presently joined the Bywater. 

It couldn't have been more perfect. And Saradas lost no time in securing the rights to the land, as well as dozens of acres all around. As a matter of fact, the local families, from Whitfurrows to Bywater and several points north and south of the Road, were particularly thrilled that a Brandybuck was setting up housekeeping in their neigborhood, despite what less tolerant folk might think in other, less adventurous, parts of the Shire. The name of Brandybuck meant wealth, as everyone with an ounce of sense knew, and wealth meant some of the more idle sons and fathers, not to mentions the equally idle daughters, might bring in a bit extra for the eggcozys of many a thrifty mistress. 

The local pubs were quite looking forward to this influx of Brandybuck pocketjingle as well. 

So Saradas set to work on his cottage, calling in local help, as well as any young lad from the Hall who fancied a few days in the country away from the mamas or the hayfields or the sweet babies their new wives had blessed them with (having forgotten to mention the squalling and reeking they'd be blessed with besides). In short order, the hill was tunneled, floors, walls and ceilings were set in place, and the short bit of roof was thatched, leaving Saradas Brandybuck the proud owner of a very cozy and comfortable new home. 

Now, over fifty years later, the fruits of his care and planning were obvious. Though empty for almost a year, the little cottage remained snug and tight, protected from all weather by the skill and thoroughness of the craftsmen who carried out the detailed plans. Carpets, paneling, cabinets, counters, and doors, all had been built to last many lifetimes. And chairs, tables, beds, hassocks and sofas had all been carefully tended, restuffed when necessary, restitched when needed, and replaced when worn past any use. 

One might visit any number of grand and grander hobbit holes in the Shire and still not find a single one as attractive and welcoming as Greenrill Cottage. 

When the sun lifted its head on this fine Autumn morning, it shone first on the eastern slope of Greenrill Bank, where a carpet of grass grew fine and thick, the deep green blanket broken here and there by patches of late-blooming wild flowers: the deep russet of Maidens Bells, the cheerful purple and gold halos of Fair Traveler, and the wilder bursts of Lockhorn and Dimfrage, all mixed in whirls of yellow, deep blue, plum and apricot. 

Rising ever higher, this same brilliant sun soon lit the stands of old forest to the south, where branches hung thick and uncut to screen the front porch from all sight of the East Road. And last of all, fully risen in the clear blue sky, it touched the tops of rambling beech, maple, wild apple and pine (with here and there a family group of grand old fir) standing guard to the north and west. 

It was still early, at least for the rising of gentlehobbits, and the clock had not yet struck nine, so the little porch and its lone inhabitant were both yet hidden within the shadows of wisteria and rambler rose draped in heavy folds over the railing. A delightful aroma of fresh coffee wafted through the open windows along with a toothsome smell of bacon, fresh scones and blackberry jam. As the front door opened, the heady aroma of nicely browned seed cakes assailed the air. 

The lone inhabitant waved an imperious hand. "Merry, come here, if you please. I've been far busier than you have, you know." Pippin tossed his stub of a quill onto the table and squinted down at the rough map he'd drawn of Greenrill and its environs. "We can put the new stables there and the hives...over there... And if Mr. Marshwood and Sons can get the lumber..." He tapped a slender finger against the map. "How much lumber did Mr. Marshwood say he could get before... Ow!" 

Merry's peal of laughter rang across the front lawn, startling a group of warblers pecking out their breakfast in the scattering of leaves. "Serves you right, Peregrin Took! Parading naked all over our front porch. What will the neighbors think?" He pulled Pippin close, running his fingers gently over the spot he'd pinched. "And furthermore, what will _I_ think?" 

Pippin wrapped one leg behind Merry's, nuzzling under his chin before muttering, "Why should I care what the neighbors think, Merry dear. They're busy hunting worms or burying nuts. And besides..." He raised Merry's hand and kissed each finger. "...you've... already... buried... my... nuts..." He folded Merry's hand around the erection bobbing against his belly. "...and you can have my worm, if you like..." 

Merry was laughing so hard, he almost pulled them both over. Grabbing Pippin round the waist with his free arm, he gasped, "If I ever hear a single Aunt say you are no better than you look, I swear I shall plant you in front of all of them, just as you are now..." He swatted the wiggling backside, then cupped it with his fingers. "...and ask them to vote all over again!" Then he grabbed Pippin before he could break away and, laughing and wrestling, they managed to discover, by dint of necessity, how perfect a fit the biggest lawnchair could be when asked to make do in a pinch. 

Hidden behind the vine-covered railing, they plotted various Brandybuck delights and gasped over a myriad Tookish charms. It was indeed a most satisfactory after-breakfast romp and lasted far past the sun's discovery of their hiding place. 

"We must send for the rest of the furniture, Merry..." Still catching his breath, Pippin lay cradled in Merry's arms, breathing into the damp warmth of his chest. "And the hives. But I expect you'll want..." 

"Hush, my love. We should have flowers before we need hives. All in good time." Merry pushed the hair back from Pippin's forehead and slowly ran the tips of his fingers down the rosy flushed cheeks. "Just let me look at you a while. I love to look at you..." His voice died away on a smile. "Dearest Pippin, do you know how happy I am?" 

"It's the Took charm, you know." Pippin puffed a stray curl out of one eye. "Slays people right and left, it does. And don't you laugh, Merry Brandybuck, for this Took will be the making of you, just see if he isn't." 

Merry planted a sound kiss upon Pippin's cheek and sat up. "Come on, my own slice of cherry tart, it's past time to get dressed and put things in order. We _must_ leave for Bag End today." 

Pippin chuckled and rolled out of the chair. "And won't _we_ be a surprise, eh, cousin? Now, if we could just figure out how to get Sam into the best bedroom..." 

"No planning now, just dressing!" 

"Yes, Master Brandybuck... Ow!" 

* * *

It was an old rhyme sung by every hobbit lad and lass, almost before they could walk. And as they trotted their ponies up the Great East Road, Merry and Pippin pitched their voices to the jingling of the harness and sang in clear harmony: 

See the hobbits, all around  
Dancing on the market ground.  
Hear the hobbits laughing say,  
Come and sup the night away! 

Bells and candles, songs and wine,  
Brush your feet and form a line.  
Hobbits filling cup and spoon  
From the dark 'til highest Noon. 

Before long, the Green Dragon had come in sight and with merely a look between them, they set the ponies toward the little stable at the back. Since they were close enough to Hobbiton that a stop here wouldn't matter, they might as well take up a pint and hear what was what since they'd last stopped in. 

* * *

"Hallo, Master Brandybuck! And Master Took as well, ain't it?" Chaffer Barrows set his pint down with a thunk, lifting his voice to call out, "Oi! Innkeep! You've got prime guests waitin' on yer slow self!" 

A bellow of laughter came through a little door in the wall and a remarkably thin hobbit sidled through, a brimming mug in each had. "Not fair, is what I say, damn all Barrows! For here I am, hands no more empty than a Baggins Purse, so you just you shut your trap before I set my big toe in it!" Still laughing, Mr. Harbottle winked at his new guests and nodded them towards the tables near the fire. "Sit down, you two, and here's your first!" 

"Now *that's* what I call service!" Pippin grinned and grabbed one mug, passing it to Merry before taking the other. Then both of them joined the little group of hobbits seated at a table to one side of the fireplace. 

There were four of them: Chaffer Barrows (a young farmer from Bywater), Farmer Cotton's son Bob, and two brothers by the name of Willow, up from Stock. 

Mr. Harbottle folded his arms and winked at his new additions. "I hear that was some party up to Brandy Hall, eh? You two look like the early bird that got every worm in the ground." 

Pippin sputtered on a mouthfull, but Merry merely smiled and said, "It was indeed a party to end all parties. And I think the sooner forgotten, the better." 

There was general laughter at this, then Mr. Harbottle shook his head. "Didn't happen on your cousin, Mr. Baggins, did you?" Seeing their blank looks, he continued. "He's not been by to see us this last month or more." 

Every head nodded in agreement. "It's right you are!" Bob Cotton frowned a little. "Why, we've not had story nor song since that tale of the Elf maid, and that'll be five weeks come tomorrow." 

Chaffer upended his mug for the last few drops. "That Mr. Frodo's a good one for tales and I miss 'em." 

Merry and Pippin both looked perplexed and Merry sent his eyes round the table. "What about Sam? He comes here quite often and he ought to know..." 

Harbottle shook his head. "Young Gamgee ain't been by here neither." 

Bob had been sitting back in his chair, but now he leaned forward, still frowning. "The last time I saw Sam was maybe two weeks ago. And I never did see such a long face on him before. Like somebody he thought real well on was dead and gone. Never even heard me call out." 

Pippin looked at Merry and raised his brows. Merry stared back a moment, then nodded and lifted his voice to carry round the room. "Can anyone say they've seen Frodo Baggins or Sam Gamgee these last few weeks?" 

There were only eight other folk taking their ease among the scattered tables around the room and one by one, Merry caught each eye. And one by one, with a single exception, they either shrugged or shook a curly head 

The exception was a soft-spoken grocer from Hobbiton, sitting in the farthest corner from the fireplace. When Merry's eyes at last reached his, he lifted his hand and the room hushed to dead silence. "Well, young sirs, this may be nothin' more than a fancy rumor, but I did hear tell that Gaffer's boy don't go up to Bag End no more. At least, that's what I had from Mrs. Boffin, she what lives not far from old Sandyman. You can make 'a that what you like." 

Merry nodded his thanks and sat back, turning a questioning look on Pippin, whose own face seemed far too pale in the cool light of the pub. 

"Mr. Harbottle." Merry lifted his mug in a quick salute. "I know that it's not polite to down this excellent ale without discussing each fine swallow, but business presses and we must be off." 

Harbottle smiled and wrinkled his nose. "I'm a bit worried myself, Master Brandybuck. Be off, you and this young Took, and see what's happened to our tales and fine stories. We sure do miss 'em." 

"Make sure our Sam's all right, eh?" Bob's voice was serious, but he winked as well. "I miss his cheeky smile, I do." 

Both young hobbits grinned, then took their leave, heading for the stable and the ponies. 

* * *

Old Gaffer thought a whirlwind must be coming as he stepped out into his garden. Leastways, that what it sounded like. 

"Gaffer!" 

"Oi! Gaffer..!" 

"No need to shout, lads! I ain't gone deaf yet! Though I'd just as soon do when old Mrs. Bracegirdle comes callin'..." 

"Is Sam around?" "Have you seen Frodo?" "Are they all right?" 

The words came tumbling out to run madly round Gaffer's ears. Holding up both hands, he shook his head. "Now just you wait a Sandyman minute, you pair 'a thistledowns. I ain't seen your Mr. Baggins in at least a week and though I say he looked a bit peaky then, I couldn't tell you what sort 'a rig he's wearin' now." 

Pippin jiggled in place, his heart pounding with impatience. "But where is he...?" 

"Why, he went off up to the West Farthing these past few days or so on one 'a his 'jaunts'. I think he's back now." He gestured with his pipe. "Leastways, I saw my Sam..." But his audience was already headed up the lane at a fast clip, a quick 'thank you!' floating back from their retreating figures. The old Gaffer sucked his pipe a moment and watched them up the hill, frowning slightly. "Nothin' dangerouser than a Brandybuck commixin' with a Took." He shook his head and turned back to his own bit of garden. "Unless it's a Took mergeratin' with a Brandybuck." 

As they strode up the path to Bag End through the warm afternoon sun, a chorus of birdsong rode the little breeze blowing in from the Bywater Pool. It was the kind of day to sit back and discuss the fanciful dresses the trees had got on or to discover what sweetness lay behind the smile of an old friend and how best to make that smile your own. 

Merry reached the little gate first and lifted the latch, but Pippin grabbed his arm before he could step through and hissed, "What _really_ do you think we ought to do?" 

Merry shrugged a little, staring up at the immense breadth of The Hill. "I haven't the snip of an idea. But we must do something. It's high time they realize they're both in the same story." He nipped through the gate with Pippin close behind. 

"Oh, that's all well and good, but Cousin Frodo's as dense as a radish. So I still say we take their clothes off and lock 'em in the same room." 

Merry laughed and grabbed Pippin's hand, pulling him up the path and onto the stoop. "Just let me do the talking, cousin." He rapped his knuckles on the door and stepped back. "You're likely to send them both screaming down the Bywater and we'll have to explain everything to the neighbors, after which neither of us..." 

But then the door opened and a pair of tired-looking eyes peeped out. "Master Merry? And Master Pippin!" Sam pulled the door open and grinned. "We didn't expect..." 

"Of course not, Sam Gamgee." Pippin stretched himself as tall as possible and said, in his best 'I am the Thain so listen up' tone, "But we _do_ expect. So, just you let us in and we'll see who's who and what's what and never mind the 'but I can't's'." As soon as the door was wide open, he darted forward, cheeks pink with indignation. "Look at you, Sam. All done in and it's no wonder, the strain you're under." 

Sam gaped at them both, a bewildered expression on his face. "What...?" 

"Merry, I think we've arrived none too soon!" 

"Pippin, let Sam close the door..." But it was Merry who snagged the edge with his heel and swung it shut. "Didn't we agree that I would be the one to...?" 

"Sam, " Pippin folded his arms and looked Sam up and down. "...you're a mess. And there's no reason for it. But don't you worry..." He smiled grimly. "...Merry and I will put you right back where you belong." 

"But I never..." 

"Of course you never!" 

"But I don't..." 

"All too right, you don't!" 

"Just hold on, I can't..." 

"And why can't you is what I want to know!" 

Sam blinked at Pippin, then squinted at Merry. "But..." 

Merry sighed and leaned his shoulder against the wall. He knew better than to even attempt to stop a Took at full blow. 

Pippin shoved his hands deep into his pockets and glared. "Where do you come from being such a prude about all this? We're not talking old stories and, and..." He popped his hands back out of his pockets to draw vague little cicles in the air. "...well, things that don't have any meaning and aren't really true! We're talking about your life and Frodo's and all the things you could have together." He snorted. "If you only had half the brains I know you've got, you should still be able to see what's right in front of your eyes." 

Sam slowly shook his head and sent an imploring glance at Merry. 

"I'm afraid I'm lost too, Sam." Merry chuckled. 

Sam tried once more. "Master Pippin, if you'd let me explain..." 

"Where's Frodo?" 

"But Master Pippin...!" 

Sam dodged as Pippin stomped up the hall toward the Study, calling over his shoulder, "And don't you 'Master Pippin' me, Sam Gamgee, or I'll whack you good, see if I don't!" 

Merry burst out laughing. "Don't you worry, Sam, I'll rescue Frodo." He scooted after the disappearing Took and found him already in full cry, facing down his older cousin in the middle of his Study. 

"Frodo! You, you... Don't you know what you could have? Don't you know he loves you? And you love him?" One busy forefinger stabbed the air. "Because if you don't, there's no hope now or tomorrow or ever after for you, because I wash my hands of the pair of you and, and..." 

"Pippin, wait." Frodo chuckled, his mouth spread in a wide, happy grin. 

"But..." 

"No. Wait. Please." Frodo took hold of one of Pippin's hands and reached for one of Merry's, squeezing them both hard. "I know what you mean to say and I thank you. But there's no need." Sam had tiptoed in and was standing quietly at his side, grinning as wide as a picket fence. 

"Ohhh..." Merry's face lit up and he started to smile. "Frodo?" 

"Yes, my dear Merry. Sam is moving in with me. Effective immediately, if not sooner!" He laughed softly. "Oh, my dear cousins, if you only knew how wonderful the world seems now." And perhaps it was the blush that rose to Merry's cheeks or the look in Pippin's eyes that gave it all away. With a delighted laugh, Frodo pulled them both into a warm hug. "But you do know, don't you?" He laughed again, kissed both their cheeks, then spread his arms as wide as they could go. "Then I say, it's time we had a party! I've still plenty of Old Winyards and my larder has more than enough for several parties. We shall celebrate until the cow carries the Moon away on her horns!" 

And what else could they say but "Yes, please!" and "Thank you!" and then help to dress the table with every good thing that would fit, and then sing and laugh and talk so far into the night that the Sun would be the one to put them all to bed. 

End.


End file.
